Harry Potter and The Next Generation: The Charlatan's Crown
by MiracleCloudsTasteLikeBeef
Summary: 19 Years after the defeat of the Dark Lord, and Hogwarts is as educational and dangerous as ever. Harry Potter may have gone, but that doesn't mean that the new generation of students won't be facing dangers of evil monsters, dangerous rivals and (the worst) homework. Featuring Leonard Wellwood as an OC.
1. Avenging the Dark Lord

**Hai Guys! It's my first fanfiction, and I hope you like it! (BTW, you may have seen this fic before, I HAVEN'T stolen it, I have discontinued it in my old account and have rewritten, edited and decided to rewrite this series).**

**Basically: It takes place 19 years after Voldemort's defeat (surprise, surprise!), and the Wizarding World is still quite unsure about calling Voldemort by his true name, still using substitutes like You-Know-Who. Kingsley Shacklebolt is Minister of Magic, and Professor. McGonagall is Headmaster of Hogwarts (other appointments, changes to the world, etc. will be mentioned later on). And the main characters consist of an OC, another OC, and a character we already know (hint: he/she is the penultimate-introduced**** character in the last book). I promise that the other characters we already know and love (Rose, Hugo, Lily, James, Albus, Lysander, Lorcan, Scorpius, Roxanne, Molly, etc.) will play big parts in the fanfiction as well! **

**Chapter One**

___– _Avenging The Dark Lord _–_

"_The Dark Lord will be avenged!"_

The first words Burnaby Girth heard when he was born. Of course, being a newborn, he couldn't decipher the words, but as he grew older, those words became etched in his mind, almost a part of him.

Mrs. Girth gave birth to Burnaby in a wizard pub named The Leaky Cauldron. When Burnaby was born, Mr. Girth and his friends had a toast, reciting the exact words that could've led to their downfall (for speaking of You-Know-Who after his defeat was considered traitorous to the rest of the Wizarding World): The Dark Lord will be avenged! Yes, Burnaby's parents and their friends were the few hundred Death Eaters and Followers of the Dark that escaped the wrath of the Aurors and families of the victims of years of pain and torture.

In fact, Burnaby would follow in his parents footsteps.

When Burnaby became a year of age, he was forced to attend a Muggle preschool, as not to raise suspicions. He had his first spurt of accidental magic when he was five when fellow preschooler Brandon Tickle teased Burnaby about not being able to tie his shoelaces. Brandon's shoelaces were so knotted together after that, his parents had to use a butcher knife to sever the tightly knotted shoes. Mr. Girth was very proud of Burnaby for that one.

Burnaby even had to attend a Muggle Primary School, much to the dislike of his parents. Burnaby was so noticeable because of his flaming, uncontrollable, red hair; he became the butt of many jokes throughout his school life. Brandon Tickle (the same child who teased him when they were five) finally played his last joke on Burnaby which resulted in the latter setting fire to Brandon's hair, clothes, bag and all his valuables at school. Brandon got out okay, but he'll never be five metres from Burnaby again.

Because of that incident, Burnaby soon became an outcast, a person that everyone knew to stay away from. That was the way Burnaby liked it, but he found it unnerving that people were whispering behind his back and staring at him. When he finally became eleven and was allowed to leave, he left the school a going-away present. To this day, some children are still trying to find their way out of the large, grassy maze.

Indeed, when he became eleven, he left his primary school (which many people were grateful of), which everyone else did, but he didn't attend any of the local high schools and nobody inhabited his house, which people concluded that the Girth family left. They became the talk of the town, rumours were spread and many people claimed to be the Girths in disguise.

In actuality, the Girths moved (or rather, flew) to northern Britain where on the 1st of September, Burnaby travelled to the Yorkshire Museum, a rather original name. Many tourists flocked there to take photographs and to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at fossilised objects, dinosaur bones, old British artefacts and inked paintings from the 18th century. But Girth wasn't carrying a camera and he was certainly not going to stare at paintings for ten hours straight. He had a leather luggage bag in his right hand, and his left was tucked in the pocket of his black coat.

Burnaby scurried inside, careful not to be sighted by the guards of the entrance, otherwise they would be asking for licence and money. Bowing his head, so the mob of excited people covered him, he crept quickly into the doors of the marble museum. Even Burnaby had to stop to stare in awe at the wonderful objects trapped in glass cases or the perfectly detailed paintings. Already, hundreds of familiar '_clicks_' and the short burst of light from the cameras were echoing in the large building devoted to Britain's history.

Burnaby tore his eyes away from the awesome sights, reminding himself why he was even here. _Do you want a _magical_ education, or an education on British history? _He asked himself. Immediately, he chose the former. History at primary school was always rather annoying.

Burnaby glided along the rows of dinosaur bones, a fossilised stone was fenced by red string and encased in a very large, glass box. Burnaby resisted the urge to push forward the couple in front of him, who were chatting animatedly about how interesting the stone was. He moved around them, losing precious time.

Grumbling, he saw a girl wearing an enormous fuchsia jacket, who was talking with a girl in a leather coat, not unlike Burnaby's own. They were talking slowly and contentedly, but walking hurriedly. They only paused for one of the girls to take off her coat and adjust it, and to slide it back on. The movement was quick, but Burnaby couldn't help seeing the unmistakeable black and emerald uniform with the letters 'EA' weaved on the front, which was all too familiar to him.

Burnaby raised an eyebrow and followed them, careful that they didn't see him. The uniform was familiar, and it showed signs of allies, but Burnaby wanted to be very sure before approaching them. They twisted around rooms and they ran up stairs, Burnaby following behind. The girls leaped past another fossil room and they strutted in and out of a room with a model of planets spinning in the ceiling like a chandelier. Eventually they slowed down their pace when they reached the Art Gallery.

They were looking around, studying the paintings, which mainly consisted of archaeological breakthroughs and geological celebrations, detailed artworks of tools used in mining and finding tombs hung as well. Sculptures of famous archaeologists were crammed into a corner.

Burnaby watched as the girls looked around the Gallery, occasionally tapping each other's shoulder and pointing to a painting or a sculpture only for the other to shake their head. They finally stopped in front of a painting that touched the ceiling and the floor.

It pictured a chubby man who was holding a pickaxe triumphantly in one hand and a chunk of gold in another. Behind him, people working into the night were searching for gold in mineshafts, and wailing at the gold already taken. This was obviously an artwork depicting a Gold Rush.

Standing close enough to hear the two girls talking, Burnaby listened:

"The painting...it can talk!" whispered the girl in the leather coat.

The other girl sighed. "Of course it can, Zahra! It's bewitched, like Mother said! Now come on, before we're late."

"B-But, how can we go in without being seen by the non-magical people, sister Lisa?" Now they were speaking in hushed whispers, and Burnaby strained to hear.

Lisa rolled her eyes at her apparent sister, who looked years younger than her. "It's bewitched! The Muggles probably see a door or something that says 'Cleaner's closet' or 'Please do not come in', or something. Those Muggles are rather dim."

Zahra nodded, but didn't look like she was understanding. They both muttered something to the painting, and it halved itself, and each flap opened up, like a door, and the two girls stepped in through the painting.

Burnaby was bewildered, and rushed to the painting, which was quickly mending itself. Soon, it was, again, like a normal painting. Burnaby stared open-mouthed at it.

"Open, please." Burnaby told the painting.

Everything stayed still and stationary. The victorious man stayed in the same position as normal. Nothing changed in the painting.

"Excuse me. I want to attend Elder Academy, and the only way I _can _attend it, is if you grant me permission to enter." Burnaby said, a bit more firmly this time.

The man was still in the same position, smiling that irritating grin of his.

"I want to get to my bleeding school this instant!" Burnaby hissed lowly, and quickly looked over his shoulder, but everyone was still engrossing into the specially-crafted statues and the artistic paintings hung on the wall.

"No need to be rude!" The man in the painting spat, putting his arms by his sides, dropping the pickaxe and gold and frowning at him.

Burnaby was so surprised that he had to clamp his hand over his mouth so as not to alert the other tourists in the exhibit. Burnaby gaped and stared wide-eyed as the painting once again split in half, flapped open and folded to the side, like a real door.

Amazingly, the room hidden by the painting was not a room at all. In fact, it was the _scene in the painting_, yet everything was life-sized, and life-looking. The man was still standing their, looking slightly miffed at Burnaby's rudeness.

"Well, come on then! You're going to miss the groupings." The man chastised.

Burnaby was still baffled and shocked at seeing a goldfield at the door of a museum, but was rudely ushered through the door by the man.

Very reluctantly, Burnaby's hand wavered close to the entrance, and eventually moved into the painting. His hand didn't feel any different, but looked like it was drawn by chalk. Burnaby slipped his other hand in, his head and eventually leaped into the painting so his whole body was inside a painting.

"Whoa."

Burnaby saw the field that was pictured - It had huge ditches and entrances to mineshafts, and people were mulling around, carrying various tools like cradles, pans and picks. Burnaby noticed that everything looked chalky and distorted, like a real painting. Lights streamed through the quickly-made houses from a painted, wavering moon in the sky. A cobblestone path that wasn't in the original painting snaked around the field, and followed off into the distance where trees stood. It was like a world inside another, which was exactly what Elder Academy was.

The thought of his new school snapped him out of his thoughts. Finding new confidence, he bade farewell to the ruffled man (who looked rather miffed at his lack of gratitude), and ambled down the path, waving at confused-looking cattle. Burnaby finally reached what he supposed what was the end of the path, and jumped into the darkness...

...and a heartbeat later, Burnaby appeared in front of a tall, daunting palace glinted in the night sky.

It was brick-made, so it stood sturdily and proudly, and didn't look like it was going to collapse. The architecture was awkward and deformed, adding to Burnaby's queasiness. The exterior of the building was all brick-red, and the tops of the towers were black. Windows all different sizes and shapes appeared in the most queer of places; there was a window on the top of a tower which acted like a trapdoor and a chimney made purely of diamond-like glass. There were no front doors - at least it did not look like it. The door was invisible, a perfect way to keep out unwanted visitors. Veils of blue silk acted like flags, which were stationed around every entrance, and a huge quadrangle-type area remained in the front of the castle, wells, benches and trees all placed around comfortably.

A mob of students dressed in the same uniform as the two girls Burnaby saw before were rushing into the front of the palace, trying to trace where the doorknob was. Burnaby saw a Professor hexing a few students out of the way, and then slamming open the front doors. Burnaby widened his eyes at the Professor, who didn't seem to care about ruthlessly punishing students. He made a mental note not to get on that teacher's bad side. He tore the leather coat off, revealing his uniform, and tucked it into his luggage bag before gliding into the front doors with the other students.

The next few hours rushed by. An old, plump lady wrapped in a deep red cloak named Professor Gladys Claudius guided the first graders, including Barnaby, to the front of a grand and magnificent grand hall. High above the ground, the teachers sat in seats attached to the wall. In the front, a huge stage with a grand throne and a stone fountain glimmered.

The Principal, Professor Elder, a muscly, tall, balding man with dark blue robes, greeted the students and announced a welcoming speech to the new students of Elder Academy. The Professor Claudius rambled on the history of the school, Burnaby only catching a few words about rampaging dragons which was a very disturbing thought, until Professor Elder cut off Claudius before she bored the school to death, which the lady was rather affronted at.

Next, Elder cited about how the 'grouping' process worked. Each first grader would slip their hands into the deep abyss that was the fountain, and the snake that slithered there would bite their palm. Instead of a sharp bite mark, a number would be the repercussion of the bite, and that was the group name they were in for the rest of their time at Elder Academy.

When it was Burnaby's turn, he was terrified. It took ten minutes of coaxing from the teachers until Burnaby actually reached the stage. Carefully, Burnaby dropped his hand into the broken hole in the fountain mouth and his hand stayed there. Nothing happened for a moment, and Burnaby was afraid that he wouldn't be chosen at all, and the teachers would kick him out because of that. He was just about to ask the Headmaster what was happening when a searing pain plastered onto his palm.

Burnaby immediately retracted his hand and stared at it, sure that two puncture marks of a snake would be there and blood would be gushing out in gallons. Instead, a venomous green '4' was tattooed onto his palm. The Headmaster gestured for Burnaby to lift his hand so that the school could see. Burnaby complied and the rest of the school cheered and clapped, especially an enormous round table at the edge of the room.

Burnaby made his way to the table and had the best meal of his life: seafood with a variety sauces drizzled onto it, plates of roast lamb, piles of tissues to dab onto their mouths, and then resume eating. Forks, spoons, knives and plates danced in the air above each person, and tornadoes of food landed nicely onto plates. Drinks poured themselves, and vegetables tabled themselves. Spinning quiche and flying fruits bounced onto random plates.

He grinned. He was going to have the time of his life at Elder Academy.

* * *

_Five years later..._

Burnaby Girth hated the rain. It was annoying and drippy, and whenever he walked in that particular weather, rain seemed to follow him wherever he went. Girth wanted to use the '_Impervius_' charm on his watch, but since he was only sixteen, he would most likely be caught by Ministry officials, which was most probably the worst thing to happen right now. Despite his school's influence over the Ministry, he doubted that they would allow him to use underage magic.

Even the leather, 'waterproof' coat he had gotten five years ago couldn't shield the rain from seeping onto his skin. Girth made a mental note (he always made mental notes) to get a new coat. The jacket that Girth had used to cover his uniform when he was eleven was enchanted by his father so that it grew with him, always maintaining the exact fit as Girth himself. Girth wondered where his father was now. Probably in the 'new and improved' Azkaban, a place where only Death Eaters were placed, no Dementors but actual guards protecting the prison. Maybe his father was still on trial? Girth doubted it.

Girth was currently running across a London road, caked by sweat and rain pouring onto him. Occasionally, he would lift the hood on his head and shake the water from his hair, because the hood wasn't actually keeping the water away.

Girth had a bag in his hand, which he held rather tightly.

Girth sped up, not wanting to be late for the mysterious man named Rector. He had promised him revenge on Ronald Weasley the man who ratted out his father to the Azkaban authorities. More hauntingly, was that Rector's plan was so crazy, it actually made sense. Burnaby had to retrieve a particular object from Hogwarts, and he had done it successfully, the artefact stuffed into the bag Girth was holding, no matter how much it protested.

Girth met Rector when the former had been crying shamelessly about his parents in Azkaban, while resting himself on a granite rock on a beach, not far from the street Rector "lived" on; Rector had Apparated near the rocky shores of the beach, a few metres in front of Girth.

Girth was surprised, but more surprised when Rector spoke to him:

"I know your pain..." Rector had hissed, looking straight at the turbulent sea ahead. Girth wasn't sure who Rector was addressing, but it could have only been him, for nobody else was at the beach at the early dawn.

Nevertheless, Girth pointed to himself and mouthed, "Me?", which was stupid for Rector was not even looking in Girth's direction. So he was utterly shocked when Rector spat, "_Yes, you!_"

Girth had scrambled off the rock and into the tide in shock, and Rector finally turned around. He was a tall man, with fair hair, and a well-toned body. Strong, Rector was wrapped in royal blue robes that matched his piercing eyes.

"W-What do you want?"

"To help you..." Rector whispered, the voice curling into his ears and slithering around Girth's mind. The voice was cold and quiet again, slightly musical.

"You can help me by getting away!"

Rector made a scratchy, high noise and it took Girth a few moments to realise he was laughing. "Ah, but I can help you formulate your revenge on Ronald Weasly, and at the same time, I'll be making trouble for the other Auror families and fence-sitters too."

"You can help me take revenge on Weasley?" Girth asked, shocked.

"Not only that." Rector said sincerely. "You can help us rule the world." Girth saw the hood of the robe widen, and he could have sworn that Rector was smiling.

"Us?"

Rector laughed again, and Girth wished he would stop keeping such an unnerving, positive attitude. "You catch on quickly! I have friends, followers, and people...like you. Vengeful people, who just need a little...push, so they can unlock their true potential. We, together can rule this world."

"So what's this plan?"

Rector grinned. "Let us talk, maybe in a nice café somewhere?"

They used Side-Along Apparition, where they sat at a nice restaurant, and Rector had told him the details of the wicked plan, for which was so detailed, yet so simple.

They had exchanged names after the conversation, which Girth was reluctant to do. Girth didn't know why he needed this..._thing _for the plan, but he complied anyway. Immediately after that, Girth hit the sudden possibility that Rector could be an Auror, but dismissed the thought. Rector had suggested an Unbreakable Vow, but since Girth was horrible at keeping promises, he refused.

Now, Girth was more convinced that the plan would work. He carried the bag containing the object needed for the plan to work perfectly more lightly and confidently as he walked down the rainy London streets. Finally, he reached a battered sign saying "_Gloria Street, That Way_" and a sign pointing left.

There, 32 Gloria Street home stood.

32 Gloria Street was rather normal (albeit, a bit odd) to be the abode of such a strange man; it had a home smaller than its own garden - the garden was overwhelmed with an over excess of Jasmine flowers, and the little room for a path snaked from the fencing to the front door. The house itself was wooden, painted white, and it was small and ramshackle, and the lack of light told Girth it was unoccupied.

Girth was told to Apparate from the 32 Gloria Street garden, for it was one of the only un-Traced gardens in England. Girth had asked about why the place was not Traced, and Rector had told him that it was because the owner had won a lawsuit about 'the need of privacy'.

"What a load of good that gave him." Rector muttered after answering Girth.

Nevertheless, he was very excited, because this was the first time he would actually use Apparition! Girth had excelled in the Apparition test at Elder Academy and had been waiting to try it out when he turned seventeen. Now, he could use it a year earlier, which excited him to the fullest. He placed himself on the path (stepping on some Jasmines), and Apparated.

A split second later, he retched behind a dead bush, and then looked to see his surroundings. Iron-wrought fences barred Girth from a huge garden of impressive, curvy bushes. The driveway was gravel and large, and Girth proceeded to walk through the fences as if they were smoke, giving a salute along the way. As he walked down the garden, he approached a handsome mansion, surrounded by more elaborate Yew hedges and an enormous fountain, which was spraying water beautifully and giving off musical sounds as the water mid-air hit the fountain water.

Girth approached the front doors, but immediately the doors swung outwardly as Rector walked spectacularly tiredly out of the huge building. Rector snatched the bag from him and stared at the bag greedily. "He will be most pleased..."

Suddenly remembering Girth was there, Rector patted him on the back distractedly, gave his thanks, and then waved him off, promising to contact him when he needed him again. Girth stood, shocked at the quick exchange as Rector slammed the door behind him.

And at that moment, only a hundred and fifty kilometres away, Leonard Wellwood woke resignedly from his dreamless sleep...

* * *

**You may have noticed something:**

**- I decided to make Girth somewhat like Harry - an outcast who at least thinks being an outcast is better off for him, and that he was worried he wouldn't be Sorted (Grouped) into a house (Group) at all. There wasn't any real reason for that. I also made Girth somewhat like Neville - a bit of a scaredy-cat. I am going to incorporate Girth's "burst-of-bravery-which-saves-the-main-characters- ultimately-" in later chapters.**

**And, some things I would like you to know:**

**- Burnaby Girth IS NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER, NOR IS HE A PROTAGANIST (He may be an eventual Protagonist, only time will tell). The reason I included him at all, was because of the sake of this chapter (and the future), which is more like a prologue than a chapter.**

**- The object requested by Rector has, in fact, been introduced before in the Harry Potter series. You may guess with PMs and reviews, but I can only answer with a "maybe, maybe not".**

**- I've created new spells, for different uses, and most of the spells created already have a spell with similar uses. Feel free to use these spells in your Fanfics, but please give me credit for creating them.**

**- I've just realised how much Rector is like Voldemort. He isn't though.**

**Please give me advice in the Reviews or PM me: Was the chapter too long, or too short?**


	2. Oakley's Orphanage for the Unwanted

**Thanks guys for your support! Only 1 Review and 1 Favourite, but this is only my first fanfiction, so I still have hope yet! Also, I've done a little research, and apparently, McGonagall stayed as Headmistress until 2007, which is exactly when Leonard starts. However, this is my story and I can do whatever I like. :P. McGonagall will continue as Headmistress. **

* * *

**Chapter One**

**– **_Oakley's Orphanage for the Unwanted __**– **_

* * *

Leonard Wellwood groaned. It was only five in the morning - according to the bewitched alarm clock that Stefan gave him for Leonard's birthday. Leon could not always trust it though. It had been known for changing from three o'clock in the morning to five o'clock at night in eight seconds. Leon tried going back to sleep, but it was futile because of Leonard's knack of being "nocturnal"; the snores and rumbles from the other beds in the room did not help.

Leonard groped around the bedside table for his book, _Unlocking the Secrets to Potions _by Venematus Trig. His hand hit an object, but it was soft and papery, unlike the thick, hard book that Leonard was searching for. He gingerly picked it up - Stefan and his friends were known to let loose Fairies (which were naturally harmless) or Doxys (which could have potentially fatal bites) in the middle of the night, because "they wanted to set free creatures that deserved freedom". If Stefan cared more about the freedom of Fairies more than causing trouble, Leon was a Leprechaun - and quickly discovered it was the invitation letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Leon read it once more, as he read it again and again before:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Professor Minerva McGonagall _

_ ~ Order of Merlin for Special Services for Hogwarts School ~_

_Dear Mr Wellwood,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary equipment and books.  
The School Term begins on the 1st of September. We await your return owl before the 31st of July._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Professor Juventas Giovanna  
Deputy Headmaster_

Leon had received the invitation letter from Hogwarts more than a few weeks ago, but it had not sunk in yet. All his years, Leon had thought himself as a Squib or a Muggle - even though he attended a magical orphanage all his life - because of the lack of knowledge about Leon's parentage, and the lack of magic displayed by Leon (though he did turn a table into a burning flower when Madam Busby had not given him seconds for desert when he was six years-old).

He turned the page over, and read the enclosed letter:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM:  
First years will require:_

_Three sets of plain, black robes (day wear).__One plain, pointed hat, preferably black (day wear).__One pair of gloves, preferably dragon hide or similar (experiments, or handling objects)__One black winter cloak with silver fastenings (evidentially, for winter and cold weather)__Everyday clothing (to wear underneath robes).__Sleeping clothes (or pyjamas).__(Optional) Earmuffs (for winter and experiments)._

_Please note that all students should have name tags on ALL articles of clothing._

_SET BOOKS:_

_All students are required to have a copy of each of the following:_

- The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk_

- Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling_

- A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch_

- One Thousand Herbs and Fungi_ by Phydilla Spore_

- Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger_

- Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander_

- The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble_

- The Detailed History of Goblin Rebellions _by Mariella Jezebel_

- A Standard Guide to Stars and Galaxies _by Celeste Caster and Aster Pollux_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT:_

- _1 wand_

- _1 cauldron (standard, preferably pewter, and size 2)_

- _1 set or glass or crystal vials_

- _1 telescope_

- _1 set of brass scales_

_Students are encouraged to bring an animal, but only ONE of the following:_

- _A cat_

- _A toad_

- _An owl_

_Any other animal shall be reviewed by the Headmistress. Be warned, your animal is unlikely to be accepted into the school. Also, FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BRING THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS FROM HOME._

Leon had not yet bought any of the required equipment and books. This was because Leon attended Oakley's Orphanage for the Unwanted, and the designated date every year for buying school things was a few weeks before the start of term. Leon had stayed at Oakley's ever since he was about six years-old, dropped off by his father, who had, according to the Oakley's staff, "had enough of raising a child by himself". Leon's mother had died giving birth to him, and Leon's dad was as good as dead to him. He had no family.

He had friends, of course. Stefan and his gang were mainly the group he ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with, sat together with at classes, and talked with, not to mention sleeping in the same room with. Although they were fun to play games with, and exchange banter with (albeit rather loud and trouble-making), Leon found that spending time in a corner, leafing through books he had ordered from Flourish and Blotts was more enjoyable than hanging out with Stefan and his friends, although not by much.

Leonard placed the letter neatly back on the desk, and heaved _Unlocking the Secrets to Potions _by Venematus Trig onto his lap. Picking up a Lux Lamp and switching it on, he began reading.

* * *

He was in the middle of reading a chapter about the Draught of Living Death, when he heard the first explosion.

A _BAM! _echoed through the building. A crash, and another explosion followed, and an elephantine noise of glass breaking issued through the Orphange. Screams and bewildered yells of adults and children alike were drowned out by another explosion, which was much larger, and sounded not unlike a stampede of hungry mules. It sounded as if paintings hung on ceilings were falling off their hinges.

Leonard dropped his book onto his desk. By now, most of the people in the room were awake, but one of Stefan's dimmer friends Timothy had slept soundly through all the three explosions. Leonard marched up to Timothy's bed as Stefan and his friends ran from the room. Leonard rolled Timothy off his bed.

"Idiot boy ... _WAKE UP_!" Leonard yelled. Timothy's eyes burst open, and he distractedly rubbed his eyes.

Timothy yawned and said, "N-Nice day, ain't it?"

Leonard screamed at the boy to get out of the room and hide somewhere safe, and he heard the younger boy mutter something like, "As if you're my mum ..."

As the boy left, Leonard scanned the room for any valuable possessions he should take with him. Five beds were arranged around the room, four of them messy bunkbeds with clothes strewn across the beddings carelessly, and one of them a neat, orderly bed with book piled and polished to perfection sitting on the floor near the bed. Posters of the Wimbourne Wasps were sloppily taped on with Spellotape, and a cupboard stuffed with old clothing and useless objects stood near the back of the room. A small window too high for any of the children to see through projected early morning light into the room.

He decided nothing of real importance was to be found inside the room, so he quickly walked through the room into the hallway, where the student's rooms were placed.

The hallway was once a cool, gleaming area, with a glassy flooring and a huge chandelier spinning from the ceiling. It was, now, an ugly area. The chandelier had long before shattered from one of the previous spells someone had casted, and the glass was scattered freely across the floor. The floor was cracked and looked like it was about to shatter inwardly. Painting that were previously hung up high above each door were splayed on the floor.

"What foul interruption to my sleep is this!" A scraggly old-fashioned man in a painting that laid on the floor. He shook his fist at Leonard, who walked past and ignored the man. Where was everyone? He noticed that there seemed to be nobody around anymore, and the screams were becoming scarce. Taking a sharp turn towards the Dining Hall, Leonard broke into a sprint, for a feeling of foreboding had crept inside of him.

He reached the Dining Hall and halted in his steps. A man whose back was turned to him seemed to be writing with his wand on the brick wall of the Hall. Leonard had never seen this man before in his life, but he seemed to have neatly combed, gelled, black hair. The man was writing in mid air with his wand, and the cuts made in the wall were mimicking whatever he was writing.

The man moved backwards to admire his work, and Leonard caught a glimpse of what it said.

In relatively small, neat writing, it wrote:

_"THE DARK LORD SHALL BE AVENGED"_

Leonard gave an involuntary gasp, and the man whipped his head around to see Leonard.

The man had a handsome face, with a sharp nose, and a chiselled jawline. His eyes were dark and mysterious, and his clothes were unnaturally malevolant; he wore a dark pair of robes with a emerald green emblem woven onto his cloak. The man raised his wand and for a split second Leonard thought...

"_Stupefy!_"

Madam Busby had pushed Leonard out of the way, and cast a spell of her own. The man deflected it with his won spell, and a blast of light erupted from the tip of his wand.

Madam Busby was a red-faced, pink-cheeked and merry woman who worked as a staff at Oakley's. She was known for her young years as a skilled duellist, and she had a soft spot for Leonard, who she "saw a bit of her father" in him, or maybe it was just because she was scared that he would turn a table into a dying begonia again.

She spun around dramatically, and levitated a table up in the air to protect herself from her oponents hex. She Transfigured the offending man's cloak into a rather temperamental pair of rats, which crunched at the man's face and limbs.

As the man was distracted, Madam Busby charmed an army of chairs to fly directly at her opponent. Unfortunately, the man was prepared, and flickering flames curled from the tip of his wand, which burned most of the chairs to ashes. Madam Busby extinguished the flames, and the man used this as a distraction. He Disapparated, and then Apparated behind Madam Busby, using a spell that knocked her out.

Leonard gaped at the man, and as he raised his wand to strike again, yet another spell hit him. This time, the spell ricocheted onto the man's wand, and it flew to another corner.

Madam Alcorn had arrived. She was a tall, strict woman, very unlike Madam Busby. Her hair was pulled in a tight bun, and her mouth was set in a straight hard line.

She pointed her wand threateningly at the man.

"_What _do you want?"

The man laughed, which Leonard thought was a rather stupid thing to do, if you were a man whose own neck was being threatened. Leonard noticed that a lot of other students had arrived, all huddling behing Madam Alcorn.

"I want the message to be cleared. The Dark Lord will be avenged!" He hissed the last part.

Now it was Madam Alcorn's turn to laugh, albeit a bit scornfully.

"The Dark Lord is, and I say this last part rather clearly, _dead_."

The man raised his eyebrows. "I am perfectly aware that he is dead. People like me just want to avenge his death."

Madam Alcorn narrowed her eyes. "We will deal with _that _matter later. Now, _what was the purpose of attacking an Orphanage_?"

"I wanted to get the message across." He said simply, but Madam Alcorn was not convinced, nor was Leonard. Nevertheless, she digressed.

"Are there more of you here?" She asked primly.

"No." Leonard though it was rather strange for Madam Alcorn to believe him, but she turned away, to talk with the other Madams of Oakley's for a moment.

Leonard overheard what they were talking about, as he walked towards Stefan.

"Maude ..." Madam Alcorn said in a hushed whisper to Madam Eleanora. "The supporters ... they're back?"

"Never mind that. Where did you hide the children?"

"Down near the Washing Rooms. But are they really back?"

Madam Eleanora paused. "Yes. It seems so."

"Who is _'they'_?" Madam Anita asked.

"Nellie ... it is the rebels. They are fighting back. They want control again. It is as we feared for nineteen years since the defeat of You-Know-Who. His supporters are not going down without a fight. They will not come quietly."

Leonard held his mouth.

He began talking with Stefan. He wanted to forget all about the man and the Dark Lord, but in fact, that was the exact opposite of what Stefan wanted.

Stefan told Leonard about how he escaped from the man's wrath. Apparently the man was shooting down everything he could see, and when he got to Stefan, Stefan had thrown a glass box of Doxys at the man. Timothy and the others were praising Stefan, who Leonard saw could not help puffing out his chest a little.

"_MADAM! HE'S ESCAPING!_"

A girl's voice called.

It took the Orphanage five seconds to realise who 'he' was. The man's surrounding area was gradually getting mistier and mistier, until a huge _CRACK! _resonated and the man was gone.


End file.
